“Who knows, sir? There never was a time that capital expended on land was more remunerative than the present.”
Now, Mr. Kinshela well knew that the destination of the money they spoke of was not in this direction, and that it had as little to say to subsoil drainage or top dressing as to the conversion of the heathen; but he was angling for a confidence, and he did not see how to attain it.
Barrington smiled before he answered,—one of those sad, melancholy smiles which reveal a sorrow a man is not able to suppress,—and then he said, “I 'm afraid, Kinshela, I 'll not test the problem this time.”
“It will be better employed, perhaps, sir. You mean, probably, to take your granddaughter up to the drawing-room at the Castle?”
“I never so much as thought of it, Joe Kinshela; the fact is, that money is going where I have sent many a hundred before it,—in law! I have had a long, wearisome, costly suit, that has well-nigh beggared me; and of that sum you raised for me I don't expect to have a shilling by this day week.”
“I heard something about that, sir,” said the other, cautiously.
“And what was it you heard?”
“Nothing, of course, worth repeating; nothing from any one that knew the matter himself; just the gossip that goes about, and no more.”
“Well, let us hear the gossip that goes about, and I'll promise to tell you if it's true.”
“Well, indeed,” said Kinshela, drawing a long breath, “they say that your claim is against the India Board.”